


Forward Seems Like Forever

by sunspot (unavoidedcrisis)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Marriage of Convenience, Political Alliances, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 07:04:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16080977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unavoidedcrisis/pseuds/sunspot
Summary: “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a man in possession of a good wife, must be in want to reclaim his rightful place as king of Starkhaven."- Jane Austen, probably





	1. The First Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thegreatandpowerfultoaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatandpowerfultoaster/gifts).



> Set in some nebulous timeline between DA2 and DAI, I think. I took some liberties, okay? Thanks to LadyNorbert and wintertree for beta help and invaluable advice, and to Jane Austen for (most of) the summary.

"Now go, and walk in the light of the Maker... together," the Holy Mother intones. If she sounds uncomfortable, it's a reflection of how almost everyone else is feeling right now. Sebastian's heart has been in his stomach the entire time, but his new wife looks serene.

Sebastian hastily wipes his hand on his tunic before Josephine takes it in hers, knowing it's clammy and probably very unpleasant. He feels guilty on top of all the other feelings, weighing like a stone in his stomach. Josephine is the only one here that looks put together and unrattled, like she always does. Only the tremble in her hand gives her away as they walk through the small crowd (mostly her family and a few friends).

When they pass together under the arch at the end of the courtyard as instructed, Josephine immediately drops his hand. She must then realize how it seems, because she gasps and turns to him.

"My apologies, I didn't mean any offense," she murmurs, not meeting his eyes. Sebastian lets out a nervous little laugh. She's still so courteous, even though she's suddenly letting the tension show on her face.

"Not at all," he assures her. "It's been a very big day. I think we're just exhausted."

"It's barely dusk," Josephine reminds him. There's a pause between, then they both chuckle. Nervousness, butterflies in the stomach, and awkwardness; none of it is going away even though the most publicly revealing parts are over.

"Your family has prepared a lot of food," he says, trying not to acknowledge anything that just happened or the long road to rebuilding his tattered homeland that stretches before them.

"It's an Antivan custom, to have enough food to feed everyone ten times over. My family excels at it," she says. She flashes him a smile, different than her expression while the Holy Mother was speaking. More genuine, he thinks.

"That may be a Starkhaven custom too, come to think of it."

There's a lull in the conversation and it feels like a chasm. "We'll be expected back shortly and I must get out of these shoes."

Sebastian expects that's her way of excusing herself, but instead she steadies herself on his shoulder. Gripping lightly through the fabric of his tunic and shirt, she unlaces the fancy shoes from around her ankles before placing them neatly behind a planter. Sebastian finds himself, once again, impressed by Josephine Montilyet.

She takes up his hand again, returning a hint of a smile, and they reenter the courtyard.

* * *

The entire 'courtship' had been four letters, two from each each of them, while they settled details and made arrangements for his passage to Antiva for the marriage ceremony. They're expected to dance together, Josephine had explained in her last letter. A mere detail she included in a grander explanation of the customs of her homeland.

He lies awake nights thinking about that little, inconsequential thing she'd mentioned. He's danced before, technically, but that was more just like groping barmaids while someone drunkenly sang a sea shanty in the background. Actual dancing, with an audience and with the woman he's now married to, is nothing like that.

"May I have this dance?" he asks, offering his hand because he at least knows to do that much. She takes it and follows him to the floor. Sebastian feels his knees shaking like a new foal and, once everyone's eyes are on him and Josephine’s expectantly looking up at him, he thinks they might give out.

Perhaps what he'd mentioned of his past was enough to let her know that he'd be useless at this sort of thing, or maybe she's just as perfect as her letters led him to think. Either way, she discreetly places his hands where they ought to be and leads him around in a dance he doesn't know.

There are torches burning around the courtyard, and every time they turn, which is frequently in this complicated dance, the firelight catches Josephine's dark hair and makes it gleam. Sebastian focuses on her hair instead of his increasing dizziness.

"Are you all right?" she asks. She adjusts her grip on his hand and they move a bit slower through the last turn before the clapping starts. 

"Not much of a dancer, I'm afraid," he says.

Josephine laughs, a rich, warm sound, and pats his arm consolingly. "I could tell."

"Oh trust me, we could all tell." Marian Hawke is at his side suddenly, draping her arm around his shoulders. "Proud of you anyway, buddy."

"Hawke? And you brought…"

Varric and Isabela are in tow, and there's a bit of commotion from the other side of the yard, so he can only guess what's happening over there.

"I thought you'd be more comfortable with your friends here," Josephine says. She looks a bit puzzled, or maybe awkward, for the first time that day.

"I got a new ship!" Isabela proclaims. "Had to take it for a spin to see how she handles. Beautifully, by the way. She handles _beautifully._ "

"Thank you," Sebastian says to Josephine, though he's not sure it's a spectacular idea. Hawke drops her one-armed hug and smiles apologetically before grabbing Isabela and motioning across the yard.

"Sorry, that's one of mine. I'll keep a better eye…" Hawke jogs across to where Merrill is apparently making small talk with, or maybe terrorizing, Josephine's parents. Her back is facing Sebastian, so he can't tell for sure, but Josephine's parents look politely horrified.

"It's nice to see you again, Lady Montilyet," Varric says. Sebastian doesn't even ask how they know each other, he's just grateful he's got help to keep it together.

There's handshakes aplenty and person after person congratulating them. Varric stays nearby, taking over when people start talking about Free Marcher politics too loudly. Hawke plies everyone with drinks and food, and there's ringing laughter throughout the estate. Something occurs to Sebastian, maybe a little too late.

"A moment?" Sebastian asks, catching Josephine by the sleeve before she can greet the person.

Josephine follows him to a quiet corner. Her skin almost glows in the lamplight and Sebastian is momentarily distracted. "Your family," he says, not sure how he's going to phrase it. "Do they know why we agreed to marry?"

Her lack of immediate response is enough of an answer for him. He rubs his hands over his face.

"A romantic marriage suited my parents' desires for me. They didn't care if it was particularly politically advantageous," she says, not meeting his eyes.

"But you did?"

"I think this arrangement benefits both of us, and our people, greatly."

Sebastian sighs. "It does, that's not what I… I only mean. Well, you should have told me. It's going to be uncomfortable lying so much to your family."

"I'm sorry. I did tell them you're a very private person, so if you're… awkward and uncomfortable, it may actually be more convincing."

He can't quite bring himself to be mad, especially when she's got that hopeful little smile, a touch guilty and a touch amused. "You truly thought of everything."

Josephine nods quickly, eyes widening. "Yes, I always try to. It's a curse, really."

Armed with new knowledge, Sebastian feels more comfortable socializing, but when Marian and Josephine's elderly aunt start a chorus of 'A Wizard's Staff Has A Knob On The End,' he can't handle it anymore. He tries to get Varric's attention for some assistance, but he and Merrill are trying to coax Isabela and one of Josephine's youngest nephews out of a tree.

"She starts the actions around the fourth verse," he hisses to Josephine.

"Auntie Izotta usually has props," Josephine says, but she catches her mother's eye and nods to the house.

The servant's door clicks shut behind them with a comforting finality and Sebastian lets out a long breath. The tension almost entirely leaves him for a whole nine seconds, but he feels better than he has all day.

"Bed, I think?" Josephine offers.

Sebastian nods, and lets her lead the way back to the guest room, but she takes him down a hallway that doesn't look familiar.

"This is all right, isn't it?" she asks, pausing before she opens the door. "Only there's bound to be questions if we don't…"

It's her bedroom, and he's about to enter it with her. Something he hasn't done in years and never with this clear a head. But they _are_ married, and of course Josephine is right, there _would_ be questions.

A wave of nervousness hits him, almost as bad as when the Holy Mother made him declare his intent for marriage in the eyes of the Maker, definitely worse than being led in the dance. He's already been sweating in the Antivan heat, even this late at night, but now he feels positively feverish.

"Lead on," he says, hating the nervousness in his voice and thanking the Maker that Josephine doesn't comment on it, and follows her, yet again, into the large unknown.


	2. The First Night

It's not nearly as bad as Sebastian had worried. Josephine's quarters are more than well appointed, including a very fine looking second bed.

"My nephews always want to sleep in here when I'm home," she explains. "I thought you could… unless you'd rather…"

"This is excellent, thank you," Sebastian says quickly, lest she think he expects anything else. "You've been very accommodating."

Sebastian settles on the floor saying his prayers to Andraste and the Maker and asking for a little more strength to get him through the coming days. He's hopes it will be enough. When he's finally ready for rest and his weariness almost overtakes him, he lies down and makes himself comfortable. It is quite a nice bed, and though the room is warm and there's still sound filtering up from the courtyard, he thinks he'll be asleep in an instant.

He's not.

It seems like hours later and he's still fidgeting under the soft sheets. Josephine must be sleeping by now. Sebastian can hear gentle breathing from her side of the room and nothing much else. Even the noise from outside has faded. It's late enough that the festivities must have ended.

Sleep and exhaustion are bitter enemies and Sebastian is the loser in their fight, it seems. He gets out of bed and puts his boots back on, as quiet as he can. A glance over to Josephine proves she's asleep, her face relaxed entirely. He's happy for her, as it's been a long day for both of them, but he can't help the pang of jealousy. Maybe it was something she could teach him, in time, to quiet the racing thoughts in his head and just rest.

There's a wide set of windows at the end of the hall. He picks up a small lamp sitting on a side table and approaches them. Sebastian's pleased to see they open onto a lower part of the roof where he can sit easily.

The lamp perches a little precariously, but as long as he doesn't shift too much, it's fine. He sits there for a long time, until he feels the tension in his jaw easing. A breeze, smelling faintly of salt water, plays at the hair at the nape of his neck. Calm settles over him, finally.

There are still a few figures moving around the courtyard, though most of the torches have been put out and the music has long since stopped playing. He can vaguely hear Isabela's raised voice, maybe admonishing Hawke, which is likely and not surprising. From this far away, where he can't be spotted, it's actually rather amusing.

A soft noise behind him nearly startles himself off the roof. He grabs the lamp as he scrambles to reseat himself, because it's bad form to burn down the house of new wife. 

The noise is Josephine, just turning away from the window. He's very glad nothing is on fire.

"I'm so sorry," she says. "I didn't think you'd heard me. I was going to leave you be out there."

When Sebastian is steady again, he tries a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, no harm done. Just couldn't quite find sleep tonight."

"I guessed. I heard you tossing and turning for a while. Would you like me to leave you alone, or…?"

"Please, join me if you'd like. It's a beautiful night." He's a bit taken aback at how gracefully she climbs through the window in her overly flouncy nightgown, but she settles right next to him. Josephine crosses her ankles demurely, bare toes sticking out from layer after layer of ruffles. When she takes the lamp from him, he sets it above their heads on a little outcropping above the window.

"I sat out here many nights, and some days, when I was young," she says with a smile.

They lapse into a not uncomfortable silence, close together on the roof. Her knee brushes his leg when she shifts and Sebastian finds he doesn't mind it at all.

"Are you nervous about the trip to Starkhaven?" he asks. He'd been very worried about his trip north to Antiva. But then, he'd been worried since he sealed the first letter.

"I've travelled plenty," she says. "The journey doesn't trouble me."

Sebastian is starting to understand that nothing does. She's like a deep breath when he wakes from a disconcerting dream -- reassuring, even and steadying, refreshing. Josephine is brave in a completely alien way.

Marian Hawke and her comrades, Isabela, Fenris, Aveline, Varric even, they're brave because they are certain of their prowess. They're secure in the knowledge that they can defeat whatever their enemies throw at them, or that they have the connections, the power, or the charisma to get themselves the resources they need to best a problem.

Josephine, as far as he knows, doesn't have lyrium superpowers or a one of a kind crossbow or (he risks a surreptitious peek) anything akin to Isabela's propensity for cleavage to leverage in her own favour, and that makes her braver than any of them. She's faced everything head on and with poise, while he's been sweating, biting the inside of his lip, and fighting off shaking knees and elbows for weeks.

She's not brave; she's fearless.

"I'm more worried about all the tasks to accomplish when we get there," she says, voice much quieter. Josephine watches him sidelong. "You're not at all though, are you?"

"My relatives at Starkhaven will be tricky, but I've seen enough of their tricks to know what we're up against," he assures her, feeling a strange sense of pride when she smiles at him.

"It's a big undertaking. I am glad we'll be together for it."

They sit in the relative quiet of the night. The breeze is still blowing by with the smells of the sea, and from below, Sebastian recognizes snatches of a soft lilting song and Merrill's voice. probably one of her lullabies, because she doesn't seem the type to know many drinking songs.

"Do you know anything about the constellations?" Josephine asks him, breaking the calm spell around them with a contented sigh and much ruffling of her nightdress.

"Very little," he admits. "Isabela has a… story to go with every one of them, but I'll admit I tried not to listen closely last time she was recounting them."

"I studied many stories while I was training to be a bard. Perhaps not the same ones that she would tell."

"A bard?" He's a little surprised. A woman from a noble house to take up singing in inns and such isn't unheard of, but it nearly is. Nothing, he guessed, that would cause undue upset if it were found out that the future queen of Starkhaven used to carouse in taverns with the woodcutters and farmers and shopkeeps.

"Yes, I studied in Orlais for a time. Decided it was not the life for me," she says mildly.

Oh, _that_ sort of bard. Maybe it would do to let that slip then, politically speaking.

Josephine picks something off her skirts and lets her hand fall back into her lap. She's waiting for his reaction; that much he can tell. Their first night together is not the time to pry about such things, so he puts the conversation back on course. 

"So what constellation is that?" Sebastian points to a cluster of stars.

Josephine laughs, leaning into him, and redirects his pointing finger by a large angle, sketching a shape in the air. "This here, is The Maiden. It represents a number of powerful women throughout history, though it's thought to originally represent one of the elvhen goddesses."

"Fascinating," he says, though he doesn't really think it is. Josephine has a smile playing at her mouth, and he _does_ find that fascinating. The anxiety, the fear of the future, is fading inside of him, in the face of Josephine's smile and her bright eyes and her inordinately frilly nightgown.


End file.
